Captured this scene on the way home to my apartment the other day. Horrible picture quality, I know. What can I say? Don't buy a BlackJack.

I don't know which version of the truth I like better. That a group of people hired a stretch Hummersine to ferry them to their family member's funeral. Or that the passengers were actually partying at Lucky Cheng's, the drag queen bar next door, and the limo driver just didn't give a shit.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

I know, I know. It's weird and super lame that he's completely dressed and I'm wearing a bikini. It's kind of a long story. I hadn't gotten dressed because I was waiting for my swimsuit to dry out but then the sun started going down so we had to leap out of our Jeep and take this picture really quickly before I had time to get dressed. And, in fact, we actually ended up missing the sunset. If you look closely you'll see that the "sun" is actually a car headlight. See? I told you it was a long story.

Driving through town.

I don't really have an ass. But I'm okay with this.

Another sunset.

I like to imagine that Dushi Bagels wear polo shirts with popped collars and spend their weekends doing Jaegar bombs at parties while firing the "double guns" and bugging fellow partygoers for their last cigarette.

Trying to distract myself on the rather terrifying car ride down the mountain to the Natural Pool.

Excited to have made it to the Natural Pool alive.

I would later tear my hand open and bleed all over the place while attempting to climb that rock in the background.

This is a picture of my head taken two seconds after I jumped off of a big rock into the water. Damn you, camera delay!

Spoiler: That rock is only two feet off the ground.

Taken on the first night. I had myself spray tanned before I went down there in order to keep from blinding the locals. So I actually got lighter as the vacation progressed.

Monday, March 24, 2008

I'm so tired and in a daze today that I already bumped into someone on the sidewalk and -- this is epically bad -- I had my nose shoved in the paper walking off the subway and actually GOT IN THE TURNSTILE WITH A GIRL. like crammed myself in the same rotation with someone, and then my bag got caught and I realized what I'd done, and she realized she had a freak on her ass. the look she gave me was incredible.

This photo below, titled Subway Turnstile Paranoia, is my favorite Flickr discovery of all time. I'm glad I'm not the only one who fears she's headed to the big House Salad In The Sky every time she goes through one of those things.

Monday, March 17, 2008

Hold my calls. This is where I'll be for the next 7 days -- parked at the swim-up bar at a hotel in Aruba. Weather.com is predicting scattered showers every day we're there. Hey, as long as it's not "wintry mix"...

Me: Freaking Spitzer, man. Just makes me shake my head and think, "Men! Get a hold of yourselves!"

Jessica: seriously, this shit makes me trust NO MALE EVER. honestly. if you prosecute hookers, are under constant scrutiny, and can't refrain from using hookers...well, christ. how can the common dude keep it together. are men just that out of control?

Meanwhile, Dad emails in from Texas:So the same state that is enthralled with the Clintons is outragedover the governor meeting up with a call girl?

Sunday, March 09, 2008

Gratuitous photo of the cast from Gimme A Break.I was traveling to Arizona for a wedding this weekend when I received the following text from Jessica, who is in Florida visiting her grandparents.

Jessica: The spring breakers have puncuated the beach, and hearing their hoarse morning-after convos makes me feel so ashamed for my past.

Me: Oh, they were my flight to Phoenix as well because it was a connecting flight to Mexico. A group of them ordered beers at 8:30 in the morning. Then one of them passed out in the bathroom on our plane. The flight attendant actually got on the intercom and said, "Can the customers traveling with a gentleman wearing a green t-shirt please proceed to the back of the plane? We have a Situation." When did we get old?

My bestie Sara got married this weekend in Phoenix. We met at Yale and immediately bonded over the fact that we were both from Texas and had close personal relationships with hair dryers and red meat. She's my first friend to get married. The rest of us are pretty much completely dysfunctional when it comes to relationships.

My first time as a bridesmaid! It's like 27 Dresses -- if it had been called 1 Dress and I'd had massive Katherine Heigl boobs to fill it out. U.S. Airways lost my boyfriend's luggage so he ended up having to wear Converse sneakers to the wedding. Everyone just assumed that he was just an edgy New York hipster and that was part of his aesthetic. (On the flight home U.S. Airways also ran out of meals when only half of the people had been served. "That's ridiculous!" I exclaimed loudly while Nick shushed me. "What kind of an airline runs out of food???" That's some bullshit.)

About a month ago Sara called and said that there was a chance it was going to be a dry wedding (her hubby's family doesn't really drink) and I asked, "Can I bring a flask?" And she responded, "Only if you bring enough for me." You can see why we're friends. They ended up having a full bar. (see below)

That's my girl.

This was my idea. It was also my idea to make all the guests do the dance from "Thriller," which I didn't actually remember until just now.

Thursday, March 06, 2008

This has been the situation for about a week now. Perhaps this is the Universe's way to get me to stop drinking. Or to concentrate more fully on hard liquor. I think this is the real reason so many women are keen to cohabitate. They should add this to the marriage vows: "I take you as my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold and to help get the damn cork off the cork screw when the situation calls for it." This is pretty much what I look like after a bottle of wine, by the way.

Tuesday, March 04, 2008

We had a good run, you and I. Well, not so much runs but definitely some memorable stiff-gaited walks. Oh sure, I'll still wear you to work now and again and to special events to keep up appearances; but after roughly 10 years together, I’m through with you. You're too high maintenance, too much drama.

I have weak calves.

As for you, Peep Toe, a shoe of form and not function, your triangle cutout falls right across my big toe, slicing into the skin and making walking painful if I have to do so for more than 10 minutes at a time. Rather than offering up a tantalizing flash of toe cleavage like your low-cut contemporaries, you put the inverse on display. Toe buds hang over the end of the shoe like extra long breasts spilling out over a too-small bikini top. (Have mercy!) You are veritable footwear hostage situation, offering liberation to the big toe and pointer toe, while holding the three other pigs for ransom. Well hear this, Peep Toes: I'm not paying anymore!

Remember when I was at that Snoop Dogg concert and there were not seats and you caused me so much pain that I had to go to the bathroom and pretend that I was going number 2 just so I would have a place to sit down for awhile? That's when I knew we couldn't go on like this. You’ve hurt me too bad. There are scars that will never go away. I'm over you.

And for the record, I was doing flats behind your back the whole time.

Sometimes meeting your favorite celebrity can be like getting a disappointing steak. There’s such great buildup but then you leave with a bad taste in your mouth when they're not what you expected them to be. That’s why I was anxious about meeting Tom Hanks at last night’s premiere of the HBO series John Adams. What if The Nicest Guy in Hollywood™ turned out to secretly be...a douche?

But Tom couldn’t have been nicer unless the man had handed out rainbows and offered me a ride home on his pet unicorn. I immediately added him to the top of my Nicest Celebrities I've Ever Interviewed List where he joins Sarah Jessica Parker, Reese Witherspoon and Keri Russell.

He worked his way up and down the red carpet, talking to every media outlet at length. And later, after his handlers whisked him away into the movie, he came back out to talk to a reporter who'd missed him the first time around.

Watch me interview him on the red carpet for PageSix.com, as I remind everyone of the importance of powdering one's face before appearing on camera.

Monday, March 03, 2008

I can't bring myself to go to my grocery store. One of the employees at my local supermarket went postal (groceral?) and stabbed a cashier in the torso with a butcher knife on Friday. Then he stabbed the bookkeeper in the torso and the leg before running out. The first woman, a 24-year-old woman named Tina Negron, died from her injuries. The second woman is in stable condition. The psycho is still at large.

According to The New York Times: The police said Mr. Gonzalez now had a beard and wore a green jacket of some type with the words “Canada Dry.” They said he had been angry that Ms. Negron had broken off a romantic relationship.

Lord have mercy, you just never know who’s crazy, right? I dated a guy awhile back who seemed completely normal but would drink heavily whenever we had a fight and then have a breakdown and destroy inanimate objects. One morning after a particularly bad fight I stopped by his dorm room and found it completely trashed. He’d broken furniture, completely upended the room and had taken a football and shredded it into tiny pieces with a knife. Yet he had blacked out and had no recollection of what he'd done. I broke up with him and became afraid he was going to OJ Simpson my ass and reported the incident to one of the deans who wouldn’t even recommend that he go to therapy. Great support system there!

I looked up Tina’s MySpace page and recognized her immediately as a cashier that I’ve checked out with many times. She'd anointed herself “Ms. So Incredible” on her blog, which I love. This is horrible. She was so young and sweet. Nobody should die at the hands of a crazy ex-boyfriend in a bad theme jacket.

Me: “Rihanna sort of makes me uncomfortable. There’s something almost imperialistic about us taking this teenage girl out of Barbados, shoving her into a patent leather corset and putting her onstage to perform for us.”

Coworker: “I mean, right? We might as well just give her a jacket made of smallpox.”

Me: "I’ve started to take offense to the little things. Like right now, my big pet peeve is people who don’t say 'thank you' when you hold the door open for them. Maybe it’s because I’m from the South. But for some reason that's really pissing me off lately."

Shrink: "And then you internalize the anger?"

Me: "No. Then I drop the door on them to punish them for not saying thank you."